MotorStorm: Blazing Trail
by Blaze6661
Summary: Story takes place during the era of MotorStorm: Pacific Rift. There will be one race on each track, and one or two non-race chapters in between.
1. Chapter 1: The Arrival

MotorStorm: Blazing Trail

Story takes place in the Pacific Rift era, two years after the festival in the Arizona desert, and is in the first person perspective.

MotorStorm and all vehicles featured is a trademark of evolution studios and Sony computer entertainment. All rights respected.

Chapter 1: The Arrival

It still seems like a dream. It's been two years since the first MotorStorm festival, and I won despite the odds. 12 drivers lost their lives. I knew some of those drivers and started a friendship with some of them. Was it worth the risk?

It was worth the vengeance in the final race. "Lonestar" Terrence Clements, who is now vulture food at the bottom of Monument Valley. I exacted my most brutal revenge on him. "Hey! Wake up! C'mon! We're almost there!" The sun blared through the window of my jet.

I was on my way to the next MotorStorm. It was on Kanaloa Island, a few miles away from Hawaii. I saw the island looming in the distance. It seemed like quite a paradise, and why it was abandoned I do not know. This MotorStorm I heard is going to be more interesting than the first, as the anonymous host is allowing drivers to use monster trucks.

When I heard of this, I used my prize money to buy myself a monster truck: a Voodoo Mastodon with white rims and a Vegas high-roller graphic finish. I still had my Mojave Slugger mudplugger and my Castro Varadano big rig from the previous contest. I had some new vehicles as well. Every driver is given their choice of one of each vehicle depending on the race. With the addition of the monster truck, there are 8 vehicle classes allowed in MotorStorm: bikes, ATVs, dune buggies, rally cars, racing trucks, mudpluggers, big rigs, and monster trucks.

We landed on a crude airstrip near Kanaloa Bay, which would be the first race of the festival. My manager Gary pointed me in the right direction. "Ok, here's how it goes: the race isn't for another 3 hours, so you've got time to do a few practice runs. There's a digital track map on the screen of your dashboard, and whatever you do, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT stray from the track, capische?"

"Gary, will you relax? I've been racing since I was 7, I know my way around the track." I stepped off the jet and the searing heat hit me like a runaway Patriot Minuteman. "My god, tell me the vehicles are air-conditioned."

"No, sorry, but most of this track is shaded by foliage." Of course, I wouldn't know searing heat until later on in the competition. "You wanna give the Mastodon a go?" I stared into space for a minute trying to adjust to the climate. "HEY!" I jumped as Gary walked up behind me. "What?"

"I said do you wanna give the Mastodon a go?"

"Uh...sure, that's fine." We watched as the helicopter lowered my monster truck onto the sand. It was an amazing sight. The sheer size and power of the monster truck would make any driver, even a big rigger run in terror. It was 2,000 lbs of alcohol-fueled, blown and injected power.

I put on my firesuit and climbed into the cab. I heard Gary over the radio in my helmet. "Can you hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Since this is your first time driving a monster, lemme give you a crash course: it's got four-wheel steering. That toggle switch next to you controls the back wheels. Remember for the back wheels, it's left to go right, and right to go left. You've got two kill switches in the cab. If you wipe out hit the switch and it'll cut off all power to the truck, but try not to crash bud, ok?"

I turned the key, and the monster truck roared as the engine turned over. I drove to the start line through a large open patch of sand to get a hang of the four-wheel steering. For the actual race, I'd only be allowed to drive either a buggy, mudplugger or a racing truck, but since it was a practice run, I'd be able to get the hang of the course. I stopped the truck at the start line and awaited the 'go' signal. The flagman waved the green flag, and I put the pedal all the way to the floor.

The monster truck tore off the starting line like a ravenous t-rex, crushing the ground beneath it. If it wasn't for the sound dampening earpads in my helmet, I would've gone deaf. As I passed the shipwrecks on the beach which were convienently made into ramps, I felt the full might of the monster truck as it roared across the sandy stretch. I saw the first turn coming up. There were two paths: one goes above ground and onto a makeshift curve, the other goes through a shallow lagoon.

I brought the truck onto the curve and drifted across the metal plating. I began to question my choice of route as the wall of the cliff was gradually getting closer as this part of the track winded down. I caught a glimpse of the next turn and drifted into the lagoon. Neither water or mud could slow down this behemoth. I felt the cool water splashing onto me as the wheels churned the track under it.

The next route was another fork. The direct route had a sharp s-curve in it. The other route went up another hill and split into three paths: two of which re-join and the other allowed me to hit a jump. I was feeling adventurous and decided to jump the ravine. I was pleased with the monster truck's performance as the shock absorbers cushioned the landing.

I came across another jump and took the path directly in front of it. The path had yet another jump and it took me over a small pond formed by the waterfall above. I was coming into the final stretch of the course as I was confronted by the final fork. I heard Gary shout into the radio. "Whatever you do kid, do not go over that bridge, it won't support the weight of the truck."

I drove the truck towards the middle of the path and crashed through the sun-beaten signs that the race coordinators forgot to tear down. The truck landed in a grassy knoll which went straight down to the beach. I drove the truck full-speed down the stretch. The truck went airborne as I hit a dip in the ground. The truck landed square and continued to roar down to the beach.

I slid the truck into my garage as I reached the beach. I unfastened the safety harness and climbed out of the truck. "Woo! I love this truck!" Gary came over to me with a huge grin on his face. You also got the best practice time on the course, so you'll be starting in first. Good job kid."

I went over to the concession stand and bought myself a soda. "Hey Blaze! I didn't think I'd see you here!" The racer known as Blackjack McCoy walked over and took a seat next to me. He was one of the racers I made friends with in the previous competition, and he wasn't in it for the money either, he did MotorStorm just for fun. "Hey, I wanna thank you again fir gettin' rid of that 'Lonestar' Clements. That guy was crookeder than a rattlesnake in a rainforest."

"Well, I did what I had to do Jack. How's Bessie?"

"Oh, she's ready! Gonna cut another swath through that pack. Mighty fine monster ye got yerself there."

"Yeah, got it with the prize money I won from the last race. I tell you it's one HELLUVA ground masher."

"Oh I hear ya. I gots myself a Beelzebuggy monster. OOOOOOOOOWEEEEEE! That thang just turns the sand into grits!"

"I'm looking forward to using it in the competition. Ever since I got it, I've been jonesing for some car-crushing."

"Well, good thang there ain't no rules in MotorStorm!"

"So how are you adjusting to the climate?"

"Well...it's hotter than the devil's hind-end. Not much different from Texas, 'cepting that theres no ranches here, and then there's them volcanoes." My face went pale and I nearly dropped my soda. "V-volcano?"

"Yep, theys all over the island. Only two of them are active though, on the other side of the island." I've never been around a volcano before, but I knew enough about them to be afraid of them. Now I know why the island was deserted. "Well, I don't think they're crazy enough to make us race on a volcano huh?"

"Ahhh, don't be so sure of that. We's all thought they was crazy making us race at the top of Monument Valley. It was like what, 5, maybe 600 feet above sea level? Remember, they want to make MotorStorm the most intense racin' out there, so don't be surprised if'n they have ya racin' on one o' them firebreathers."

"shit..."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

"Alright then, I'ma head back to my garage fir now, I'll see you in the race." I rested my head into my palm. I heard gary walking up to me. "Hey, you alright?"

"Dammit Gary, why didn't you tell me there are volcanoes on this island?"

"What are you worried about? Only two of them are active and they're on the other side of the island."

"The last thing I want to have to race against is a lava flow."

"Alright, alright, well listen, I found out about some of the other tracks. One of the volanoes is expected to erupt tonight, and they're going to set up a course around the lava flow."

"WHAT? You've got to be kidding me!"

"No, I'm not. I wish I was. You won't be racing on the volcano per se."

"I don't care! Who in their right mind would race around a lava flow?"

"It's MotorStorm, kid. Expect anything."


	2. Chapter 2: Race  Kanaloa Bay

I drove my buggy out to the starting line and watched as the other racers fell in behind me. I couldn't let anything distract me. I put the whole thing about the volcano in the back of my mind. Blackjack rolled up next to me and gave me a good luck wave. "Hey Blaze, you win this, the beers on me!" That eased off my anxiety, now the only thing I'm focused on is the race.

The green flag dropped and we took of like we were shot out of a cannon. I hit the nitrous button on the steering wheel and tore ahead of the pack. I glanced at the rearview mirror every so often. A new hotshot maverick attempted to pass me. I showed him right then and there that you gotta take baby steps before you can run with the big boys. I slammed into him and sent him crashing into a rock.

I watched in the mirror as the drivers were dodging pieces of the wreckage. I heard Blackjack shout over the radio. "YEEEEEEEEEEEHAAWWW! Way to show 'em!" A couple of dirt bikers rolled up next to me trying to distract me. I could barely hear them as they were shouting and taunting me.

All of a sudden I saw the front end of Blackjack's Patriot big rig slam into the back of one of the bikes. The rider held on for dear life as he grasped the hood. "Get'cher paws off'a Bessie you varmint!" Blackjack swerved and sent the rider into the ocean. I took the path across the metal curve again as I was trying to stick to the path I found during my practice run.

I watched in the rearview as Blackjack was blocking the other racers. He did this in the previous MotorStorm too, and as I said earlier was only in it for fun, not caring whether he won or not. Knowing that the buggy would be slowed down by the water, I took the path up across the log bridge. I breezed my way through the palm leaves and jumped down to the ground below. I made my way for the ramp again and jumped the ravine.

Since I wasn't driving the monster truck, I knew I could take the path across the bridge that spanned over the gap. Again I jumped the waterfall, and this time went across the bridge. Blackjack was shouting over the radio. "Yer on your own pardner. That bridge can't hold Bessie."

"Don't worry about it, Jack. I got this." There was another vehicle attempting to pass me. His driving habits were unusually familiar though. I put the hammer down and mashed on the nitrous. I cleared the first jump over the cliff, then the next.

I landed on the sand and crossed the start line for the final lap. The driver was still trailing behind me. I called up Blackjack. "Hey Jack, you far behind? I got this sumbitch riding me like a mongoose on a rat."

"I see him, you might wanna brace yerself, cuz yer gonna feel this too." A few seconds later, I felt the back of the buggy shake. I saw the top of Bessie looming over the driver behind me. He wiggled his way out of the space behind me, and Blackjack bumped into me. "Sorry 'bout that. I'll keep him off ye."

I intended to keep the same path as before. I knew this track like the back of my hand now. The announcer's voice was blaring over the radio. "And would you look at the way Blaze is handling that buggy? I tell you, if he drives like he did in the desert, then he'll win here for sure!" I made my way back onto the log bridge crossing the waterfall and dropped down to the ground below which had been reduced to mud from the other drivers.

I narrowly dodged a flaming wreck of a racing truck that had been taken out earlier in the race. I hit the jump across the ravine and collided with an ATV. I landed a little harsh but kept going. The rider shook his fist at me as I drove away. I took the uphill path across the waterfall jump and went across the bridge again.

I felt a bump behind me and saw the same driver had caught up to me. I tried to hit my nitrous but the tank had overheated and hadn't cooled down yet. I got some distance between me and him after the jumps. I stuck it out to the end and came in first, the mystery driver behind me, and Blackjack in third. Blackjack got out of his truck and ran up to me.

"YEEEEEEHAWWW! Way to go pardner!"

"You got lucky." I stopped and stared at the driver, who came in behind me. He removed his helmet. Me and Blackjack looked like we saw a ghost. I walked up to the driver. "Well, well, glad to see you survived that fall, Lonestar."

"I guarantee you, you will not win this time. I'm the best."

"No Clements. You WERE the best. I ended up winning in the desert. You should be street pizza. Why'd you come back?"

"I came back to get my revenge on you. I'm going to make the rest of this competition a living hell for you."

"We'll see about that." Blackjack walked up to Lonestar. "Boy, you think you can survive here, you gots another thing comin'. You couldn't survive recess in kindergarten, so what makes you think you gonna win?"

"Because I'll have help." Two other drivers walked up behind Lonestar. One of them was the one that took a dip in the ocean after Blackjack crashed into him. "I already took that boy out. Yer boys ain't enough of a meal fer Bessie. She's savin' room for you ye yellow-bellied coward."

"Well then, if that's the case, I'll be sure to bring my ace, cuz when I'm through with you two, you guys are gonna have a nice hot bath inside Mt. Oahu. Let's go boys." We watched as Lonestar and his two cronies walked away. "Dont'chu worry 'bout a thang. Bessie will eat 'em up."

"Also, ask Bessie to leave some for me, 'cause I wanna grind him underneath my monster truck."

"Can do. But a promise is a promise. Lemme buy you a beer."


	3. Chapter 3: Postrace hostilities

Chapter 3: Post-race tension

As I sat in my tent, I couldn't help but think to myself every two seconds how in the world Lonestar survived the 600 foot drop off Monument Valley. I knew a lot of the race fans also called him 'Iron Man' Clements, but this is unbelievable. I decided to take my mind off the situation and try not to get too distracted, or let it ruin the night. It was concert night tonight, and Animal Alpha was playing. Before I headed to meet Blackjack at the concert, I stopped to take another look at my pride and joy.

The Mastodon gleamed under the lights in the garage. The truck's engine pipes were shined to a point of near blindness. It was weird to think that the original monster truck was only a mere 2 feet off the ground, now they're 2000 pound weapons of mass destruction. I walked over to Blackjack's tent and heard him yelling at one of his mechanics. "I TOLD YOU TO WATCH WHERE YUR WAVIN' THAT GOD-FORSAKEN WRENCH! YOU SCRATCH BESSIE, AND YOU'RE FIRED!"

I walked over to them. "Ummm...is this a bad time?"

"No, no it's not. I was just explainin' to this here fool mechanic the penalty for scratchin' up Bessie."

"Ok, well, the concert is going to start in 10 minutes, so can you explain the perils of Bessie mishandling later?"

"Sure." Blackjack looked back at the mechanic. "He saved you, so you owe him wun. Understand?"

"Y-yes sir. I understand."

"Don't you think you were a little harsh on him?"

"Oh...I know, but like that monster is to you, Bessie's my pride and joy. Once Bessie gets her hands on that Lonestar boy, shes a-gonna tear him a new one."

"He'd better hope his vehicle can resist monster truck tires."

"Now listen, I'm not tryin' ta side with Lonestar, but I saw them take one HUMONGOUS rig into his garage. Looked like Bessie on steroids. That was one big sucker, I tell you what."

"Well, as they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. I still got my vehicles from the last competition."

"Shoot, yer still drivin' that Cuban heap?"

"Not for nothing, but it was one of the lighter big rigs available."

"You should'a gotten yerself a Minuteman like Bessie,"

"Trust me, I wanted to get one. None were available."

"I'm glad you didn't get a Lunar-Tec Buffalo. That thang is uglier than a dog walking backwards with it's hind-end shaved."

"You mean that oversized Zamboni?"

"Yep. I reckon that it was designed after a UFO or bumper cars 'r somethin' like that."

"Have you chosen any other vehicles, or are you sticking with Bessie and the Bombadier?"

"Well, I've got me a Slugger mud racer like yers, I've got a Patriot V8. Looks like an old Mustang or Camaro. What else...I've also got an Ibex Bushfire 4-wheeler fir them tricky offroad courses, I gots a dirt bike I bought in San Antonio, a Beelzebuggy, I call it 'Evil Weevil', and I modified my pickup for off-road racin'. What about you?"

"For a bike, I've got a Wakazashi Razor, for ATV, I've got a Wasabi Rascal, my buggy is a Jester BXII, I've also got a Patriot V8, it's black with skulls. My racing truck is a Hummer, my mudplugger is the Mojave Slugger I got during the last competition. You've seen my big rig, the Castro Varadano, and my monster truck, the Voodoo Mastodon." We arrived at the mosh pit near the stage. The lights went dim.

Pyrotechnics went off and Animal Alpha appeared out of the flames and opened with "Fire! Fire! Fire!".

"Boy I thought theys broken up?"

"No, they got back together for this show."

"Glad to see you boys are havin' fun." Blackjack turned around to face Lonestar. "You best git boy, we ain't in the mood to deal with the likes a you!"

"Oh trust me, I don't plan on staying long. Now I know it's...unethical to give away battle plans, but since you two won't be around much longer, I figured I could tell you."

"Finally! It's about time you turned tail and fled, Lonestar. Even if you do stay, I'll be sure to grind you under the tires of my Mastodon."

"Oh please. I'm not leaving. I'm sure by now one of you saw my new toy."

"You mean that bastardized version o' Bessie? Looks nothin' more than a tractor held together by chickin' wire."

"Yes...that 'bastardized' version of that abomination you call 'Bessie'." Blackjack swung his right hand and nailed Lonestar square in the jaw. "Don't EVER lemme hear you say that again!"

"Dude, chill out."

"Yes Blackjack, do what he says. 'Chill'."

"Why I oughta'-"

"I'll see you two at the race tomorrow. You better start packing, 'cause it'll be your last one." Blackjack sat at the bar and opened a beer. "Damn city boys...thinkin' they're hot shit."

"You know something Jack, that behemoth of a big rig that he's got isn't a registered MotorStorm vehicle?"

"Really? How'd you figure that?"

"Every MotorStorm registered vehicle has a serial number on one of the bumpers. This one doesn't."

"You think we could use that against him?"

"No...I have a better idea. The first full field big rig race isn't for another few days, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Trust me...I'll have a plan by then."


End file.
